


Have you been here all along?

by LadyP15



Category: Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars - All Media Types, crashpad
Genre: Amnesia, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Or Is It?, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-08 20:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15251646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyP15/pseuds/LadyP15
Summary: Not wanting to be more of a burden than he already is, Stensland keeps the diagnosis of amnesia to himself as he attempts to piece together parts of his life. It's easy enough.  The brunette Barbie is his landlady. The overly enthusiastic tottering old man is his boss. And as for this gentle giant of a man that looks at him with fondness, going by the name Clyde Logan. Clearly, his husband.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was just something i needed to get out of my system. I can't promise if I'll ever finish it but for now lets put it on my long list of WIPs

His eyes open slowly adjusting to the bright sickening artificial light. There is a sharp pain on his  left side and and a dull throbbing ache at the back of his head; this is the only familiarity he experiences. There is no sudden recognition at the scratchy clean white sheets, nor the tiled ceiling that bores down on him, nor the steady beeping of the monitor machine he is tethered to.

Nor the hulking mass that is squished into the armchair next to his bed, whose lines on his forehead seem to melt away when their gazes meet. The giant leans forward to take his hand, but perhaps thinks better for it, stoppping halfway, hand dropping to the bed.

“Stensland?” he asks uncertainly, “You with me?”

Stensland frowns. That's his name? What a mouthful.

The man is wearing a red plaid shirt, under which is a black fitted tshirt that shows off every curve and toned muscle. His goatee is neatly trimmed, with his shoulder length hair falling like black waves around his face. He’s a handsome yet odd looking man, one who looks like hes talking to a frightened deer, ready to bolt at any moment. His calm timber is like spiced honey, thick and sweet and reminds of Stensland of sinking into a deep bubble bath; warm comforting and strangely familiar.

The window is open letting in a small breeze that smells earthy, warm with a subtle scent of sweet wildflowers. The image of open fields and freshly cut hay springs to mind. Autumn. When apple pie and home made cakes are seen more prominently in the stores. But West Virginia sells these things all year round, he thinks next, and then recalls that West Virginia is where he lives.

But who is this very concerned man, he wondered, trying to blink away the fog of medicine that was cluttering his brain.

“How are you feeling?” asks the giant. “Do you need me to get you something?”

Stensland opens his mouth to answer, but is saved by a sequin wearing 6 year old bounding into his room, followed by a tanned wavy haired  brunette. The former has her lips pinched with worry, while the later dives onto his bed talking a mile a minute.

The giant makes shushing sounds but to no avail. The blonde ball of hyper energy is determined to say her piece much to the chagrin of the adults with her.

“Oh Steny,” she gasps, “We were so worried, Daddy said you hit your head really hard and it would take awhile for you to be up and walking again.He’s waiting in the car since the doctor said you were only allowed 3 people at a time.  I told him even though it was ice cream Wednesdays I wanted to make sure you were okay? Do you think youll be well enough to come to my ballet recital next week? It wont be the same if you’re not there.”

Stensland breathes a sigh of relief, as the giant and the woman she came with beret her for the ruckass. For one wild second he thought this might be his daughter and his wife, but the confirmation of another man having the responsibility of raising this fast talking six year old, is a huge relief.

The man shifts forward.

"Sadie,” he says gently. “Stens has hit his head hard and is very tired. We need to be very careful around him, as to not hurt him anymore. Its going to be awhile before hes up and about like he used to.” At the look at her crestfallen face he adds softly, “ You know what always cheers me up? And im sure will cheer Stens up too. Those wonderful pictures you draw, they always make me feel better.”

Lip wobbling, Sadie leans over and gives Stensland a kiss on his head and whispers, “I’ll draw you the best pictures so you get better super fast. I’ll even use those new pens I got for my birthday.”

With a parting wave she takes the hand of the brunette barbie and they make their way out of the hospital room, leaving him with the hulking mass of muscle. Stensland’s tongue is itching to ask him his name, but something holds him back.

Rising to his feet, the man makes a move to the door. “You need your rest. I’ll be back tomorrow though and in the meantime the hospital have my number if you need anything.”

“Clyde!” a disembodied voice shouts through the corridor.

“I’m coming,” he replies, hesitating at the door, glancing back at Stensland uneasily. Clearly wrestling with indecision, he turns and parts with, “I’m glad you’re back with us, was getting kind a of lonely without you.”

Stensland can only offer up a small smile. There is something in there that needs unpacking, but he is too tired to try and work out the hidden meanings of this quiet man. The giant doesnt seem to be expecting a response and opens his mouth again to add something, but is cut off with a swift interruption.

“Clyde?” the brunette called. “Lets make tracks!”

Clyde. Thats the giant’s name. It’s nice. But the question still remains. Who is he to Stensland?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where this is going, but im currently procrastinating from my main clydeland fic so...here you go

 

The next few days, brings a variety of well wishers. There is the delightful brunette again who stresses she is taking care of his plants, judging how she subtly mentions the rent, she must be the landlady of his home,  _ wherever that might be _ . There is a gaggle of young teenagers dressed in ‘Soft Solutions’ uniform, bringing with them a myriad of confectionaires.  They gleeful filled him on his accident, doing a variety of impressions of his fall which was from a forklift. According to their humours account, he had fainted due to the height (it had been apparently 2 foot from the ground) and struck his head quite badly on the edge of a shelving unit. 

Unsure of his relationship with them, he treats them friendly but distantly as one would a parent student relationship. They do not act as if this is out of the ordinary, but cheerfully tell him they are looking forward to having him back.

The little blonde chatterbox and her father visit again, bringing a collection of colourful pictures that Stensland happily gets the nurse to pin around his room. The man who goes by Jimmy politely enquires about his health and talks at length about the weather. Stensland deduces these are acquaintances, neighbours possibly, just fulfilling their Boone County hospitality, no more no less.

It's the mysterious Clyde, thats got Stensland truly stumped. His warm gaze touches Stensland’s face like a caress, as he encourages him to eat the unappetising hospital food, who strokes his hair when he thinks hes asleep, who badges the doctors for an update whenever they pass by. He is completely stumped who this man is and what he means to Stensland.

When he is eventually freed from the white hospital cell and is reacquainted with his home, which is a modest cabin off of a dirt track accompanied with a well manicured vegetable patch. He is still finds himself bewildered. Clyde and he do share the house, judging by the furniture which is a mishap of contemporary leather couches and 1970s kitsch. One wall is filled with a dvds and cds, a jumble of taste ranging from Taylor Swift to Bob Segan.

The urge to pull everything off the shelf and pile everything into his and Clyde’s pile gnaws away at him, just a chance to see what kind of man Clyde is. What are his likes, what are his dislikes? Does he cry at puppy toilet paper commercials? Who knows? Not Stensland.

Eventually leaving to restock on groceries, Clyde leaves him to his thoughts. Stensland spends the afternoon pottering around exploring their house. His room is light and airy, with oak floorboards and a big iron Cairncry bed frame where atop of it sits a pastel quilt. Hands trail over photo frames, one of him petting a dog, another of he and Clyde drinking beers while the sun sets in the background. Stensland frowns as he looks at the picture, whereas Stensland is simply laughing goodnaturedly at the photographer, Clyde is looking at Stensland with a fondness that almost borders on longing.

Putting the photograph down, Stensland returns to bed. Disappointedly, none of his digging had jogged his memory as he hoped,  and is still remaining in this dreamlike state of not knowing who he is or where he has come from. He’s sure if he asked Clyde would happily tell him, no doubt scold him thoroughly for keeping this memory lapse to himself.  But something holds him back. He clearly depends on Clyde for a lot and in this turbulent time in his life where everything he knows is balancing on a precarious edge, Stensland doesn't want to add to Clyde’s burdons. So decidedly he says nothing. He will manage. It can’t be too hard to piece together your life, right?

Through broken conversations and overheard phone calls. Stensland pieces together that the landlady is Clyde’s sister, Clyde owns a bar but since Stensland’s accident has been instructing someone call ‘Ed’ to oversee it, he is a war veteran who lost his hand in a roadside bomb, he’s lactose intolerant and takes great pleasure in cleaning. He also spends a great deal of time looking at Stensland with bemusement and fondness. All these looks come with tender smiles and soft eyes.

When Clyde assesses that Stensland is nearly within full health, he permits him to stay up and watch a few episode of Dawson’s Creek. Interest piqued, Stensland watches it enraptured, the show is filled with heartbreak and growing pains of a group of young teenagers. Stensland loves every minute of it.

When the clock strikes 11, Clyde hints that Stensland should call it a night. Stensland argues that he needs to know if Joey and Dawson patch it up. It would be detrimental to his health if he went to bed unknowing if this was the end of the road for both of them. Clyde concedes if Stensland eats one green vegetable tomorrow.  Disgruntled but eager to watch the next episode, Stensland agrees. Clyde smiles at this concession, satisfaction radiating him from like a well fed cat. He settles down next to Stensland and presses play. Stensland feels the heat of his arm bleed through his shirt.

A sudden epiphany strikes Stensland so hard he nearly bolts up right. Clyde isn't just anybody. Clyde is his husband.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few weeks, Stendsland feels like he's in a play, everyone has their assigned parts, everyone knows their mark, the props are all in place and yet someone seems to have neglected to give Stensland a script.  All things considered, he thinks he’s managed fairly well, true there have been a few instances where he’d panicked and at knowing if he should know a specific restaurant or local shop, but he had managed to pass it off as just general forgetfulness.

It’s not a bad lot he concedes. His home although not modern is comfy and the rent is pretty cheap, from the sounds of his boss (who makes frequent calls to check in with him), he has a stable job  that he has a flare for (selling furniture to people who don't really need it). And Clyde. Clyde is quiet and sturdy, just what Stensland needs at this fragmented time in his life.

Clyde strikes him as a sensible man, one who would not rush into the decision of marriage unless he was completely sure. The thought of being wanted in that way makes Stensland’s heart skip hopefully.  To have taken the plunge Stensland must have loved him at some point and must have believed him to be the one, so it's entirely possible that these feelings will return.

During the weeks spent at home, Stensland does note that his husband is not as affectionate as he pictured his ideal partner would be. There are no kisses pressed into his cheek when Clyde leaves for work, nor does he prompt any kind of hand holding. Stensland tries not to be too disappointed.

Trying to encourage Clyde to fulfill his romantic duties, Stensland attempts to lean against him while watching another Dawson’s Creek marathon. Clyde incorrectly interprets it as Stensland feeling faint and sends him to bed.

He doesn't try it again.

Clyde’s weekends off are spent running errands, from grocery shopping, to searching the local scrap yard for that  elusive vital part that could make Clyde’s truck move so much smoother, or visiting the local Walmart for the right slug repellent because those little pests won't leave Clyde’s butter squashes alone. Stensland gladly accompanies him everywhere, sick of the oppressive confines of the cabin, it's nice to be outside, breathing in this sunshine air that trickles through autumn leaves to warm his skin.

All the time riding shotgun beside Clyde, Stensland wonders when Clyde is going to kiss him. Stomach flipping at the thought, he wonders what it's like to kiss Clyde. Will his goatee tickle? What's it like to nibble at those pillow soft lips? What sounds does he make when he moans in pleasure? These thoughts fill his mind as they pass through towns that have the familiarity of having being visited once in a dream.

Ever since coming home from hospital, Clyde has slept by his bedside on a well loved leather Chesterfield. Keeping a firm eye on him to ensure that a concussion doesn't make itself known in the night, thus forcing Stensland from a slumber to walk around his room to prove that it's safe.  It’s natural to assume that the other room across the hall from Stensland’s is an unused guest room. Such is the natural behaviour of married couples, correct? However, Clyde looks like Stensland has just announced that he wants to join the Amish community, when he lunges for Clyde’s prosthetic hand and tells him, “My feet are cold, won't you come warm me?”

Color floods Clyde’s cheeks as he is pulled down under the thick duvet into Stensland’s embrace. Mattress sinking, his breathing uneven, Clyde takes awhile to get comfy. Stensland circles his arms around him, stroking his side like you would a high spirited horse.

Chest swelling, Clyde returns the squeeze, with a  touch so light Clyde brushes a stray lock of hair off Stendsland’s forehead. It suddenly strikes Stensland that this is Clyde’s way of asking for sex. They are married after all.  Trying to remain calm and not let this sudden wave of anxiety spill into his voice, Stensland attempts to cut off any thoughts Clyde might be having in that regard as quickly as possible, he needs a bit of mental preparation before they head down that road.

“Not tonight Clyde,  Im still not well enough.”

Despite the lateness of the evening, Stensland can still read shock embedded on Clyde’s face. Jaw slack and eyebrows raised, Clyde’s clearly taken back by Stensland’s disinterest.  _ Huh. _ Perhaps Clyde and himself go at it like bunnies in the spring. Stensland reflects that this may take some more thinking on then previously considered.

Stensland is pleasantly surprised though that the thought of sex with Clyde makes his heart skip a beat and his hand sweat. He knows it would be good. He’s watched Clyde fix the truck outside, biceps flexing, fingers dancing over the well tuned machine, Stensland’s mind races at the thought of what tuning they could do to him. His mouth waters.

Fake yawning, he makes a show of turning over, back to Clyde. “ Goodnight.”

He hears Clyde swallow thickly, his eyes pressing hotly into Stensland’s back, “Goodnight Stensland”, he murmurs.


	4. Chapter 4

Clyde treats Stensland like a fine piece of china, carefully and reverentially as if he might break at the slightest touch. They touch more now,  _ now _ they are sharing a bed. Many an afternoon is spent with Clyde’s fingers entwined in Stensland’s hair, ghosting over his skin, discreetly thumbing at his hummingbird pulse while they curl up together watching tv.

Clyde is Stensland’s lighthouse, in this chaotic storm that is his life: A calm reassuring presence that anchors him in this perplexing world he has found himself in. Warm and kind Clyde asks nothing of Stensland, but simply radiates a quiet pleased energy whenever Stensland reaches to touch him. Oh how awful it must have been to think that it would be taken away from him due to a silly accident.

Stensland is not innocent with his staring, he gawps openly when Clyde comes out of the shower. Towel low on his hips, water beads trickling down his well sculpted arms. Stensland tries not to openly drool. How did he get so lucky? Clyde is a sight for sore eyes, his chest is naturally bare apart from a delightful dark snail trail, and he has ample pecks that Stensland has the bizarre desire to play pat a cake pat a cake on. All in all he seems to have the build of a Greek god. Stensland lays awake at night tracing Clyde with his eyes, his subtle curves, the way he breathes and marvels at his luck.

When the boredom of staying at home gets too much, Stensland returns to work. Work is spent organising furniture delivery, arguing with teenager members of staff about appropriate footwear, upselling to a  middle age couple an interesting chair/swing that will be a talking point at parties and wrestling with toddlers who seem to think the bathroom displays are a jungle gym. Stensland loves it.

Stensland picks up take-out and races home, missing Clyde’s company even though its only been one day. Sitting close on the couch, knees touching, surrounded by empty chinese boxes, Clyde’s eyes shine as he tells him about the funny customer with the pet parrot. He’s equally amused with Clyde’s own story of how a family with a child of four asked Clyde where he kept his hook for his arm, or did he just get that out for special occasions?

Eyes crinkling up with mirth as he tells his tale, Stensland is suddenly struck with how happy he is.  Memories aside, he is certain he has never been this happy or this contented. Stensland is self aware enough to realise he has some deep seated anxiety issues about how people perceive him, but being with Clyde is so easy like slipping on a comfy jumper or riding a faithful bike. He doesn’t have to put on a false bravado, he can just be Stensland.

The only thing that distracts him from this happy interlude he has found himself in, is the not knowing as much as Clyde does. He doesn't know their anniversary, he doesn't know where they had their first kiss, or if either of them got the jitters on their wedding night? Clyde never mentions their relationship. Stensland mourns the fact that he still doesn't know what its like to kiss Clyde.

It’s on a night when Clyde comes in from working a late shift at the bar that he finds out. Creeping around the bedroom as not to wake Stensland, Clyde shuffles about, cursing when he stubbs his foot on the bed frame. Feeling a pang of sympathy, Stensland flicks on the light.

“I’ma sorry. I tried not to wake ya”, Clyde says sheepishly. He’s halfway out of his jeans, and has one arm out of his shirt.

Stensland sends him a sleepy-indulgent smile, “It’s okay I was just dozing really,” Stensland replies, voice scratchy with sleep. “I don’t sleep that deeply when you’re not beside me anyway.”

Clyde wriggles out of his clothes and clad only in his boxers slips under the duvet, pulling Stensland flush against him. “Is that so?”

Stensland audibly swallows, “Yer, I guess its a body heat thing. I read this article called ‘Restorative Sleep’ where if you sleep next to someone who meets you needs, it helps reduce anxiety and you sleep better. I guess it's like a caveman thing, it's reassuring that I’ve got someone who I think will protect me from a lion or something .” Stensland lets out an awkward chuckle but  internally cringes, he’s rambling to hide his nerves. But who can blame him when he’s only separated from this alabaster herculean chest by a thin cotton t shirt.

Distracted by his curves, Stensland failed to notice Clyde’s good hand sink into his hair and start to twirl the  ginger ends arounds his fingers. Clyde is watching him closely with those warm brown eyes, expression unreadable, “Is that what I do?” he asks quietly,  “Meet your needs?”

Clyde’s hand is now stroking the line of his jaw, Stendland feels goosebumps trickle up his arm. “ I don’t know, yer? Maybe?”

Stensland blushes, feeling uncharacteristically shy at this tender look Clyde is bestowing him with. Leaning in slowly, he presses his lips softly against  Stensland’s bottom lip, pulling back slightly to see if Stensland is okay.

Stensland lets out of sigh of pleasure.  _ Finally. _

Answering an unasked question, Stensland closes his eyes and leans into the kiss. It’s everything he hoped, Clyde has Botticelli lips, his hair smells like Pecan pie and well toned arms are encircling his waist, making Stensland feel grounded and warm all over.

The last couple of months have been scary, in this world where Stensland had felt a drift and clueless about everything. It is Clyde that has kept him grounded, Clyde who has been the reassuring presence when Stensland had started to feel frayed at the edges. The past feels inconsequential all that matters, Stensland thinks (as Clyde kisses his forehead and snuggles against his neck) is this moment here. Safe, warm and at peace.

For the first time in a long time, Stensland feels sure about something. Falling in love with Clyde will be easy. He’s halfway there already.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when the next update will be after this, boring adult things are happening at the moment. But hopefully it should all be finished by the end of August.

The next few weeks, Stensland finds himself falling into a routine. He’s woken to a kiss pressed into his forehead, a hot cup of coffee and a smile that could make flowers bloom.  Mellie often pops round with freshly harvested apples from her orchard, rosy, crisp and delicious. Weekends are spent at Jimmy’s helping with odd-jobs like the tiling the roof or re gutting the bathroom. Stensland wisely removes himself from these situations and either entertains Sadie with robust sword fighting with sticks in the garden, or assists Sylvia with the preparation of lunch.

Evenings are spent wrapped in Clyde’s arms, aimlessly pondering what deity blessed him to be gifted with such a life. Clyde murmurs low in his ear, how much more content their life has become, and Stensland can only give a noncommittal hum in response. How would he know? He has no memories of what was before.

They kiss a lot more now, sometimes sweet and short,  other times hot and intense. Clyde kisses with toe curling efficiency, making Stensland quiver with want. Clyde never pushes for anything more, just pulls away slowly, eyelashes fluttering, ears burning a bright red, sending a small shy smile Stensland’s way. Clyde never brings up the lack of sex, he just seems happy to have Stensland in his arms.

It’s on a night out at Duck Tape that things come crashing down.

To the encouragement of Mellie and Stensland, Clyde has agreed to put on a talent contest to celebrate Duck Tape’s 15th years anniversary.  An array of people sign up from country singers, to jugglers and one inept ventriloquist. Stensland is excited as this is his first time visiting Duck Tape since the accident, he’s vaguely aware of what he’ll find: a jukebox that only plays seven songs, bar tables that are never completely clean despite Clyde’s attempts, a pool table where one of the holes has been blocked by a can of coke that no one can get out, and Clyde standing tall behind the bar attempting to blend in to the background.

Wearing his favourite striped jumper and hair tied held back by one of Mellie’s hair bands, Stensland saunters into the bar and is immediately hit with that smell of spilt beer, ashtrays, and bodies pushed closely together and a loud warble of ‘Country Roads Take Me Home’. This attack on his senses flicks a switch in his brain and Stensland is overcome with dizziness as he tries to make sense of what is happening.

_He’s five and making fairy cakes with his mother in a small cluttered kitchen, sunshine bounces off copper pans and a kettle sings announcing tea time, lemon icing sticks to his cheeks as he licks out the bowl. His mother has soft hands and sad eyes._

_He’s nine and is the last to be chosen in P.E, he tries to ignore the laughter of the other children when he misses the goal for the hundredth time._

_He’s fourteen and so horny and he can barely breathe, afternoons are spent climbing trees and spying on the girl’s netball team because thats the closet he can get to a girl without her cringing._

_He’s eighteen and its the same day he attends his mother’s funeral that hes accepted at Seattle college as an international student to study Art and Graphic Design. He suddenly feels small and afraid._

_He’s twenty one and kisses his first boy outside of  Denny’s at two in the morning. There both drunk and and it ends as quickly as it began, but Stensland still thinks about that sandy haired boy with sea green eyes from time to time._

_He’s twenty four living in a small cramped apartment at a questionable part of town. When no flying graduate jobs come knocking at his door he takes a job as a salesman in a furniture store, its not the thrill he imagined but its steady pay and he's good at it._

_He’s twenty nine when he receives a promotion and an offer to move to Boone County as manager to open up a new store, after being burned by Morgan he grabs the chance at some form of escape._

_At thirty, sick of living in a motel room, he sees a Craiglist ad that offers a room in a charming cottage within easy distance of his work. All enquiries should ask for the manager  at “Duck Tape”. It's a humid night when he steps into the bar._

He knows what comes next.

But then it stops when a  hand claps on his shoulder with a friendly,  “Hey”, breaking him out of this memory trail. Stensland could almost scream in frustration, he was so close to finding Clyde’s place in his story. Swallowing disappointment  he fixes his face with a smile that he hopes looks genuine. He pays little attention to Jimmy’s remarks about the turnout, but just trails behind him to the bar, head a buzz with this new information of just under three decades of his life.  

Clyde soon joins them, with a beer for Jimmy and a fruit juice for Stensland. Stensland mourns the fact there's a bar blocking him from Clyde’s arms, he longs for a hug that he knows will ground and comfort him. Clyde must sense something is amiss as he sends him a reassuring wink, before turning to another patron.

Stensland’s heart flutters, there is time for that later. They have time for everything.


	6. Chapter 6

On a Thursday afternoon when the sky is a pleasant pearly blue, autumn clinging desperately to its throne with tendrils of honey gold sunshine, Clyde takes Stensland out on a date. Excited about the prospect of a “real” date with his husband, Stensland had put a great deal of thought into his outfit, instead of going for his typical patterned shirts, he managed to unearth a smart silk shirt, (coral blue he’d been told it brought out his eyes) and some pressed black slacks (that he had miraculously not burned with the iron). He had debated back and forth on the whole underwear debacle. In an ideal world he would quite like to have sex with Clyde tonight, but would he come across as too eager?

Taking the risk, Stensland pulled on his trousers and hummed in satisfaction at his matching socks and freshly polished shoes. He hadn’t put this much effort into his appearance since the travesty that was Grady’s apprenticeship.  Glancing in the mirror he chewed his lip with aprehnsion, he’d taken the time to blow dry his hair and style it with a little bit of gel, Stensland just prayed it wouldn’t spring back to its usually manic waves. Teeth checked, hair parting straight. Stensland took a breath to collect himself.  Making his way down the stairs, Stensland paused at the bottom to take stock of the picture that was Clyde. Standing in the middle of the living room, Clyde was bathed in autumn light, wearing a well fitted black suit. With a red wine silk shirt underneath, exposing every contour of his chest, he looked like a dream.

“You look...nice,” Stensland stuttered. Nice? Nice? What had he been thinking? Why couldn’t he wax poetic lyrics about how perfect Clyde looked? What an inane response. Clyde must despise him!

Clyde preened at the compliment, dimples showing, ears tingeing a delightful pink shade.

“Mellie picked it out for me,” ducking his head bashfully, “she said its important to look good on a first date.”

Despite feeling light headed at what was happening, a small voice in the back of his head did query Clyde’s choice of words. First date? He meant first date since the accident ….right? Ignoring the stirrings of doubt, Stensland bounced on the balls of his feet in his eagerness to take Clyde’s outstretched hand.

A short drive later found them parked at a humble Serbian restaurant, decked out in ferns and fairy lights. It was busy, but not oppressively so. Taking seats outside on a decked out patio they had a pleasant outlook of a babbling brooke  and could admire the vast arrays of colours that autumn produced.  Despite the coolness of the evening, Stensland found himself decidedly hot under the collar due to Clyde looking at him unashamedly, almost as he held the key to all of Clyde’s dreams. When the food arrived, (Riblja čorba for Stensland and Prebranac for Clyde) they quickly slipped into date mentality, holding hands, sharing shy smiles and exchangd pleasantries about their day. They even split a dobos cake, giggling like school boys, when Clyde missed Stensland’s mouth and got cream in his hair.

On the way back to Clyde’s truck, they walked hand in hand, giddy with both the wine they had drunk and the general satisfaction of being in ones company.Slipping his artificial hand around Stensland’s waist, Clyde pulled him close and murmured softly , “I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

Stensland’s heart sung. Clyde had been so patient since his accident, they could finally fall into the roles of husband and husband, never hesitating about their love for one another. Now healed there would be no second guessing, just soft touches and soft kisses, the uncertainness  would disappear left with only peace, happiness and home.

Clyde’s artificial fingers were twitching erratically as he attempted to unlock their front door. Ignoring the offer of a drink, Stensland walked straight up to their bedroom, only stopping at the top of the stairs to check that Clyde was following, (he was, albeit slowly and warily as if he was expecting to walk into some kind of trap).

Stood toe to toe at the foot of the bed, Stensland fingered Clyde’s lapels, smiling up at him from under ginger lashes. “I think it's about time your fulfill your husband duty”

“Husban-”, but whatever Clyde was going to say was abruptly forgotten and cut off by Stensland’s instistant tongue.  Clyde whimpered. After several moments of nibbling and caressing, Clyde pulled away, eyes glassy, hair askew, “What do you want Stensland?” he asked, voice full of hope yet simultaneously wary.

Stensland smiled mischievously, hands returning to Clyde’s hair, entwining the long black locks around his fingers. “You”, he replied simply, “All of you. Your tongue in my mouth, your cock in my arse and your hands in mine”.

For a minute Clyde said nothing, just gazing at him with shock. If Stensland could take a guess, he would hanker that Clyde’s brain had short circuited with hearing those words.  The ugly face of doubt had started to creep into Stensland’s mind as the seconds dragged on, had he overstepped the mark? Perhaps Clyde didn't like it when he was foreward or cras? But with a sudden urgency that was startling, Clyde grabbed his face and kissed him. And kissed and kissed and kissed. Kissing him trying to pour his soul into his touch, moaning into his mouth, shepherding him around the side of the bed and pushing him down on to a soft quilt.

Clyde’s hands shook as he stripped Stensland of his clothes. Stensland made a move to switch off the bedside lamp, but Clyde hastily batted his hand away. “No I want-, need to see you,” he explained, voice deep almost horse. Sinking his weight on top of Stensland he could feel Clyde’s intrest pressing insistently against his thigh, Stensland felt his heart soar, so this is what it felt like to be wanted.

Feathering kisses across his forehead, the bridge of his nose his cheeks, Stensland felt well and truly desired. Letting out a muffled sob as he heard Clyde whisper sweet nothings into his ear, Stensland marveled at the man that was on top of him. How on earth had be been blessed so thoroughly to have this kind compassionate man look at him like he was the centre of the universe. Each compliment made, Stensland’s insecurities slipped away, so he unfolded like a flower, offering himself up like a prize.

Clyde took him gently but without hesitation, holding Stensland’s hand, grounding him as he slowly built up a rhythm, caressing his sides, stroking his cheeks and pressing kisses into his neck. The arousal built up slowly, making Stensland’s toes curl from the pleasure, it was soul achingly good, Stensland thought he might die from this exquisite kind of agony.

Clyde’s thrusts were met with the sounds of Stensland’s sobbing of, “Oh Jesus, Clyde you’re so good so very good. Oh Jesus.” Feeling Clyde brush  against his sweet spot, Stensland’s arms tightened around Clyde’s back, stiffening suddenly as he spurted hot onto Clyde’s chest. Clyde quickly followed with a muffled groan into his hair, collapsing sideways but still clinging desperately onto Stensland’s waist.

Stensland blinked, “That was amazing.” Propping himself up on to his elbow he looked down at Clyde. “We are definitely doing that again.”

Clyde’s eyes were rimmed red as he smiled up at Stensland. “I’ve dreamt about this for a long time, and it's more wonderful than I ever hoped.”  Cupping the back of his neck, Clyde leant up and kissed him softly.

Despite the sweetness of the kiss, Stensland’s heart couldn't help but break a little. His poor husband Clyde had been so bereft of him, these past few months must have felt like an age. Resolved to soothe the hurt that Clyde must have been carrying, Stensland nestled in closer as Clyde slowly drifted off and tried to think of how he could make it up to him.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Now in his early thirties, Stensland found the sex fueled fantasies he had had as a teenager, had finally come to fruition, now they had crossed some invisible barrier, they  subsequently couldn't keep their hands off of each other. They still did the day to day mundane activities, that still warmed Stensland’s heart: like eating breakfast in companionable silence, Clyde frowning as he read the newspaper and Stensland making scoffing noises at he attempted to eat a bowl of healthy oatmeal that Clyde had prepared for him, they still watched tv and Stensland had learned to position himself comfortably; head tucked under Clyde’s neck, legs entwined and hands loosely stroking his sides. They still went grocery shopping and some evenings were spent on Jimmy’s porch, laughing till his sides hurt as Clyde sprays Sadie and Mellie with the hosepipe.   These were part of the trappings of any relationship, but because Stensland had never had it before (and he suspected Clyde hadn’t either) he was all the more grateful for them.  

It was the sex that was the icing on the cake. Some days when he could barely stand from the intensity of the orgasm Clyde had given, Stensland was grateful for his amnesia, it meant he could enjoy the novelty of the relationship before it became old shoe.  They were riding the wave that was honeymoon sex, the kind of sex that led to  _ ‘oh my god you're gorgeous i must have you now, carry me to bed and have your wicked way with m _ e’, thoughts.

Although the hot intense needy sex was nice, Stensland’s favourite happened when the alarm went off and Clyde attempted to hide from the insistent rays of sunshine that had creeped through the gap in the curtain and was poking him rudely in the eye. Stensland found sex a wonderful tool for getting Clyde interested in the start of the day; A few gentle caresses and morning kisses, ending with him bouncing on Clyde’s generous dick, worked wonderfully.  Clyde’s eyes would always be closed with pleased little satisfied sounds been drawn out by Stensland’s eager bouncing and his plush peachy bum. Hair fanned out like a halo, smiling blissfully, sleep-warmed skin, Clyde always strikes him as unashamedly beautiful in these moments.

That’s not to say they don’t have their awkward moments too. Stensland will be the first to admit he can be a tad bit enthusiastic at inappropriate moments. He blames it on Cosmo and its insipid articles, where they  encourage the reader to be supontatnesous to keep the ‘flame alive in a relationship’. He’s unsuccessfully tried to seduce Clyde in the shower, where they had lost their balance and pulled the shower curtain down (Stensland  hadn’t accounted for their height nor the smallness of the bath), one of the booths at Duck Tape (it was corny and cliche and Stensland’s back took days to forgive him), in the back seat of Clyde’s pick up truck (there wasn’t much room and the truck had rocked significantly, he tried to feel a little bit of shame since they were still parked n the Soft Solutions parking lot, but it was one of the hottest experiences of Stensland’s life), and outside in their vegetable patch (when he first positioned Clyde in all his bare chest glory, he thought he’d get to relive some kind of Game of Thrones fantasy, been taken by some wild man out in the open , instead all he got was mud in his hair and cramp in his leg as Clyde had attempted to maneuver him so he wouldn’t squash the pumpkins).

But when they got it right, _oh boy_ did the earth move.  Clyde used every muscle, every fibre of his being, slamming the headboard against the wall, attempting to pound the life out of Stensland. He tried to hold back his desperate and undignified yells, but to no avail. Clyde was too committed, groaning beautifully, fingers digging into Stensland’s hips as they both came simultaneously . Stark naked, covered in both sweat and Clyde’s come, Stensland felt well and truly had, rubbing himself luxuriously against the silk sheets underneath.  Exhausted but happy, Stensland rolled over and placed his head on Clyde’s chest and fell asleep to the feeling of Clyde’s finger’s playing with his fly away cow licks and the sound of Clyde’s rappid hammering heartbeat.

  
  


~*~

It’s early on a Sunday when Stensland wakes with a slight pleasant ache, but altogether with a cheerful disposition. Clyde’s face is buried in his neck and his one good hand laying a possessive claim on his hip. Stensland smiles to himself, they have nothing planned today and can spend it as they please. Wiggling out of Clyde’s grasp he attempts to head for the shower, a few minutes are spent batting away Clyde’s insistent lunges to drag him back to bed. 

Ignoring the radiating triumphant and self-satisfaction that Clyde projects at the sight  of Stensland’s limp, Stensland makes his way to the shower. It’s a small abelit quaint room, tiled white with Victorian plumbing, in keeping with the rest of the house.  Beside a small potted fern that smiles at him as he stands under the stream of refreshing crisp spray, are an array of fruity shower gels, one for everyday of the week. Banana for when the standard brand wont do for Monday mornings, Mint green tea for the middle of the week to add the level of zen he sorely needs, oranges to keep the zesty feel going powering him through the week and Strawberry for when he wants Clyde to lay claim to him. For whatever reason Clyde responds strongly to strawberry, nuzzling any expanse of white skin, devouring him like some sort of creamy treat. Stensland blushes just thinking of how enthusiastic Clyde had been lately, kissing him in sensitive places, that he had previously had never considered before.

The uneventful day yawns before them, with no plans surely Clyde won't be adverse to spending some hours devoted into being wrapped around one another? Perhaps if Stensland is feeling brave he could ask Clyde to kiss him down below, he’s never been on the receiving end, but surely with Clyde it would be truly magnificent? Stensland let out a  shiver at the thought.

Balancing himself on the bathtub rim, Stensland heaves himself up grapsing handfuls of air to reach the red shower gel, his fingernails graze it slightly, as his foot slips and gravity sharply tugs him down, head smacking the cruel cold floor in the process.

Stensland is vaguely aware of soft hand cradling his face and someone repeatedly saying his name, as the dreamlike quality of the room suddenly goes dark and then nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

Stensland wakes to a cool wet flannel pressed on his forehead, leather upholstery sticking to his naked back and a fluffy towel draped around his waist.  The calm timber of Clyde speaking into the hallway phone meets his ear, something uncoils in Stensland’s chest, Clyde is close there is nothing to fear.

A few minutes trickle by as Stensland flexes his toes and fingers, eyes still closed, he tries to ground himself in the moment. His head throbs and is too heavy to lift, but more oppressive than this is the weight of the memories that have returned.

Stensland responded to an advert on Craigslist, wanting a housemate. It was in easy distance of work, the rent was reasonable and Clyde seemed like an alright guy if a bit quiet. Slowly he drew Clyde out of his shell and they became friends, good friends. Heck the best of friends. Here was someone Stensland felt comfortable being himself with, no need to brag or boast, Clyde just liked him as he was. When he got home from a long day of work Clyde had home cooked chilli on the table. When returned from a disastrous date Clyde was there with Dawson’s Creek already loaded on netflix. They had never been married.

Clyde Theodore Logan was not his husband.

Stensland groans and presses his palms to his eyes to block out the horror of the truth. Hearing the movement, Clyde returns from the hallway, tentatively reaching out and brushing a few fiery locks off of Stensland’s forehead.

Tension bleeds out of him, “You’re awake. I was getting worried about ya.”

Stensland slowly drops his hands and opens his eyes. Clyde is standing over him, worry engraved around his eyes, hair tucked behind his goofy ears that Stensland had come to love so. “You’re not my husband,” he mumbles.

Clyde blinks, brows pinched in confusion, head cocked to one side, “No”, he replies cautionsily. Clyde looks like he can’t decide between chuckling or frowning in concern.

Stensland feels sick. He wants to keep it in, but another part, the part that loves Clyde so demands he speaks the truth.  Hands shaking, sweat starting to bud on his forehead Stensland attempts to explain.

“I thought we were married”, he replies honestly. He can feel tears that want to break free itch around his eyes. “After I hit my head, I couldn’t remember anything and you were so kind and the world was so big and daunting, I- I-I- I said nothing, figured it would work itself out if I ignored it,” Stensland attempts to send Clyde a small smile but his breath is hitching too much to make it look genuine. “I thought since the photos and the way you looked at me, touching my hair when I was asleep, it just seemed natural that you and I were married.”

Clyde is silent, his face is white, at a complete loss for words.

Stensland swallows staring down at his fists that are clenched around the towel. He can't look at Clyde’s face anymore its too painful. “I guessed it was easy to go along with it, than rather asking to many questions and you were so kind and I-”, Stensland falters for a second, he takes a shuddering breath and continues, “At first when you didn't return my advances I thought you were just reserved and didn't like pda, but then after awhile you got used to me, so I just figured it was because you were worried about the accident and the effects and all. But I got it wrong didn't I? So wrong!”

Stensland takes a shuddering breath trying to even his breathing out. His throat feels cracked and dry but he presses on. “But I don’t understand if I got the whole thing wrong, why didn’t you stop me when I-”

Stensland suddenly  looks up at Clyde. His face now in his hands, tears trickling down his chin.

Realisation dawns on Stensland. “Oh Clyde, why didn't you say anything? Were you in love with me from the first day?”

The silence between them is almost painful. The clock ticks repeatedly in the background, and a dog barks distantly outside, but all Stensland’s concentration is focused on Clyde’s uneven breathing and the way his shoulders are shuddering.

After an age, Clyde wipes his face. It’s puffy and pink, but Stensland still thinks he's handsome. His mouth is set in a firm line, one that is not to be argued with.  “ I should of known it was too good to be true,” his voice is dull and lifeless, it lacks the warmth that Stensland has become accustomed too. He turns abruptly, back to Stensland, staring at the window opposite. “I won’t make this awkward for ya. I’ll stay at Jimmy’s tonight and collect my stuff in the morning. Don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or something.”

Back straight, shoulders set, Clyde marches to the front door and doesn’t look back. At the sound of the slamming of the front door, Stensland  pushes his face into the couch cushion, lets out a shuddering breath and starts to cry.

  



	9. Chapter 9

It's another three hours before Stensland has the strength to rise from the couch and put on his oldest, favourite jim jammies, there light blue with little sleeping sheep on them, but hes still cold and eventually wraps one of Clyde’s Navjo blankets around him. He watches  a documentary about otters, it plays quietly in the background helping to alleviate the constant buzz that threatens to cloud his mind.

Pulling his knees to his chest he tries to concentrate on a mummy otter grooming its baby despite a downpour of rain, and attempts not to dwell on the pleasant purrs of satisfaction that he drew out of Clyde last night. Grounding himself in the here and now, will stop him from thinking about how Clyde’s hair had tickled pleasantly against his face as he hovered over him, kissing him whilst whispering sweet nothings into Clyde’s skin, nor the way his hands had dwarfed Stensland’s own and the lines around Clyde’s eyes had crinkled in amusement. He didn’t think about these things at all.

The otter program doesn’t help when there's a banging on his door. Heart in his throat Stensland’s treacherous brain shouts ‘Clyde!’ as he struggles to untaffle himself from his blanket and reach the front door. Standing at the other side to his disappointment is Mellie. One hand balled into a fist at her side, lips pressed into a firm line and an eyebrow raised in exasperation.

After an age of gawking she lets out a long exhale and asks, “You gonna let me in here?”Her voice is hard and unforgiving.“Or are you waiting for me to comment on your questionable pjay choice?” Stensland quickly makes room for her and stumbles back into the living room. Mellie isn’t wearing any makeup and her hair is scraped back into a messy bun; a sure sign that she hot tailed over as soon as she heard her baby brother’s heart was breaking.

Even before the conversation starts, Stensland wishes it over and done with. He knows how it will go, Mellie will call him an idiot, shout at him for a good twenty minutes, grab some of Clyde’s things and then serve him notice of eviction. There is no other possible outcome, so he sinks down into the couch and presses his face into the arm, in the hope it will shield him from the majority of Mellie’s rage.

There are a few minutes of breathless silence before something hard and plasticky hits him on the shoulder. He stirs enough to see a pack of Oreos by his side. Unwrapping the plastic coating, Stensland wastes no time in gorging himself, shoving the first one whole in his mouth, savouring the creamy deliciousness that is met with the chocolate aftertaste. Closing his eyes he loses himself in the dizzying rush of sugar as it hits his empty stomach.  Suddenly remembering his manners, Stensland looks up and makes a half hearted attempt of offering a muffled, “thank you.” His throat feels surprisingly tight after hours of sobbing and moody silence.

Mellie gives him a ‘hmph’ in response, the side of her mouth twitching slightly as she surveys his fluffy hair and the crumbs that are stuck to the front of his shirt. “Good,” she adds softly, taking smalls steps forward she lifted her hand near to pet him, relieved Stensland closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, mood aside he couldn’t resist the warmth that comforting physical affection provided. With a sharp SLAP, followed by a dull ache Stensland had quickly realised his mistake. Clutching the side of his head, Stensland let out a howl, “Fuck! What the Fuck was that for?”

Mellie, who still had her hand raised, made a move to give him another swipe. Hastily doing a backward roll Stensland climbed off the couch, in the hope that it would be enough to act as a barrier to protect him from further assaults.

“What the fuck me?” Mellie shouted, wisps of hair falling out of her bun as the waves of rage simply rolled off of her, “No! What the fuck you! You are probably the most idiotic man on the planet!  What kind of imbecile keeps their amnesia a secret? Good God! I knew you weren’t the brightest penny, but it never occured to me you would stoop this low. What were you thinking?”

Full of jitters Stensland’s heart rate had picked up, beating even faster that when he usually got himself into knots. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Stensland whined, wringing his hands miserably, “ I just didn't want to cause a fuss and be a burden.”

Lowering her hand,  Mellie surveyed him with disbelief, “So this heartbreak that you’ve caused my brother is somehow less of a burdon? Unfucking-believable, you are truly somthing Stensland.”

Turning, she walks the length of the living room and back again, taking deep shaky breaths. Stensland gets the impression she is trying to taper the urge to start shouting again. Taking a deep inhale, she faces him, heat of the argument having evaporated to be replaced with icy indifference , “ So, Stensland, what was the plan? Keep up the charade and until you got bored of playing house with my brother? Was it some kind of entertaining game for you?”

Stensland flinches, “What? No!” Stensland could feel himself getting redder, but he pressed on with renewed vigour, “at first maybe yes, but I slowly fell in love with him, and then suddenly I was in a bar and couldn’t get over how natural it all felt and I didn't really care about getting my memories back,” Stensland stares at his hands unable to meet Mellie’s intense gaze, “ but now thinking about it, I think on some level I’ve always loved Clyde, perhaps I wasn’t ‘ _ in’ _ love with him, but I could recognise something was missing between us, I just couldn’t name it or perhaps I was too scared too.

Either way, the amnesia gave me the courage to act on it,” Stensland added quickly, “I’m not saying it was the right thing to do, but I think we would still be stuck in a sort of unfulfilling middle ground; A form of exquisite agony, happy but not happy, content but dissatisfied. I didn't realise it at the time, but I think that's why all my dates failed.”

Stensland voice is hoarse from his dramatic speech, looking up at Mellie who is directly facing him with her hands clasped in her hair, she looks as if  she wants to laugh or cry at the same time. “If it makes you feel any better, I feel like utter shit. I never dreamed about hurting him. He was just so kind I was just an idiot. I put one and one together and got five.”

Mellie quickly steps out around the couch before Stensland can even blink, whirls on him, fearsome and wild-eyed. “If this is so, why are you here holed up like some kind of hermit, instead of going after him?” she hissed through her teeth.

Shrinking back against the wall, he started to speak, softly and haltingly,  hesitating to speak the truth that had crashed on him, albeit a few hours ago. “Because there will be no going back, if- if-if Clyde can’t come to terms with this, then we’ll be worse off than before, not friends and not lovers. I’m scared he wont want me as either.”

“I can’t decide who's the bigger idiot. Clyde for not leveling up and telling you how he felt, or you for creating this whole ridiculous pantomime of a scenario.” Letting out a deep exhale, she gives him a long look that Stensland can’t read. “Either way, you have to fix it. Clyde’s gone all silent and when I can get him to talk he just blames himself.”

“Himself? What-Why?.”

“He’s under the illusion, he took advantage of your medical condition, basically just stubborn overthinking moron,” shrugging her shoulders, Mellie makes for the door. Hand on the knob, she turned to him look at him critically, “sort it out, tell him how you feel now. Only you can talk some sense into that ridiculous noggin of his.”

“I’ll try,” Stensland stumbles desperately.

With a parting small incline of her head, Mellie heads out, closing the door behind her and leaves Stensland alone to the whirlwind of his thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for sticking with me so long. All your comments and kudos have been very much appreciated.

 

It begins to rain during the afternoon. After tiresome hours of near-dozing, oddly restless, it falls hard and persistent. The constant downpour hits the living room window and sends him twitching into his blanket.

He can’t sleep for fear Clyde will return and he will miss his chance to explain everything.

By early evening the storm has reached its peak  and its become clear that Clyde is not going to make a surprise appearance.  With a newfound determination Stensland tries to summon up his last dregs of courage he possesses; In all honesty it's not a particular deep well, but for Clyde he’s prepared to do anything.

Wrapped in his thickest jumper under one of Clyde’s spare fishing cagools, Stensland makes his way to the car, if confronting Clyde head on about his feelings is the only way to resolve this, then so be it; Even if it means doing so in front of the whole town

There’s mud everywhere, and puddles.  The wind is even colder than the droplets of rain that trickle down the back of his neck. Stensland shivers.

Despite the wind whipping aggressively against his car, the drive to Duck Tape is uneventful. Pulling into the parking lot, Stensland deflates at the amount of cars. In spite of it being a Sunday, the weather seemed to have driven the majority of town to their favourite watering hole. Stensland grimaced, the last thing he wanted was a scene  with him looking like a drowned rat begging pathetically for Clyde to forgive him.

Pushing any doubts down, Stensland tried to summon some condor powerful energy. He could do this! Every romantic byronic hero had faced his darkest hour when all seemed lost, this was the last herculean test where he had to prove himself to win his love over.Heart beating a erratic tattoo against his ribs, Stensland strutted to the door of the bar and gave it a confident shove.

Any confidence that he might have gained from his inspired pep talk, quickly melts away at the sight of Clyde chatting happily away to a female patron. Disappointment raged in his chest.  Here was a pretty little thing, all curves and wavy hair, dressed in a colour coordinated pink ensemble, leaning into Clyde’s personal space as he poured her a fruity concoction. She laughed gracefully at something Clyde had said and it made Stensland’s hackles rise.

What was the point? Did his sea walrus laugh even stand a chance against this flamingo who was sending Clyde flirty eyes. Not wanting to find out, Stensland quickly turned and retraced his steps to the exit, only pausing when he heard Clyde call his name.

Internally cursing, Stensland attempted to fix a carefree smile on his face and hoped to God it looked natural. Shuffling to the bar, he noticed Clyde had stepped away from the flamingo and was staring at Stensland with a mixture of worry and sadness.

“I said I’d be around tomorrow to pick my stuff,” Clyde tells him, “You needn’t of come out in this weather.” At the mention of the weather, Stensland becomes overly conscience that he is wearing an oversized raincoat and is dripping copious amounts of water on Clyde’s honey oak floors.

Stensland’s face is hot with the pressure of the rest of the bars’ eyes burning into his back, but he can’t leave now, he’s come to far. What he wouldn’t give for a drink to make this easier. All he wants to do is grab Clyde and bury himself in that comforting embrace that he has come to love.

Instead he says, “I wanted to talk, I think there are a lot of mixed messages about what has happened this morning and I think you walked away under the impression that you’re to blame for some of them.”

Clyde isn’t paying attention, or at least thats impression he wants to give off as he continues to clean a dirty margarita glass. Stensland knows him too well to know the way his head is cocked slightly to the side and the tension he’s radiating, that he’s soaking up every word Stensland is uttering.

Stensland’s palms are sweaty and he can feel a stutter coming on, but regardless he presses forward, “Mellie told me you feel responsible and I’ve come to tell you thats bullshit. I was an idiot who got the wrong end of the stick, I should have just come out and told you but I was scared you would get tired of me. I was frightened and I panicked. Please forgive me.”

For a few precious seconds it feels like the whole bar has held a breath collectively. With a slight incline of his head, Clyde straightens up and goes through a door that is marked ‘staff only’.

Tense and a little scared, Stensland trails behind him and miserably ponders how long would it take to get over Stensland, a month maybe two? Then perhaps he’d start to look for a suitable partner. Some pretty little Miss America, easygoing, thoughtful, who would bake and help with the running of Duck Tape, someone as unlike Stensland as possible. Children could fit in their nicely; Clyde would make an ideal father.

And Stensland would go back to the motel with damp sheets and cracked tiles and try avoid everybodies accusatory glares. Or maybe he would hightail and leave, perhaps a change was in order some, other big city like Miami or Chicago and he would try and disappear among the crowds, attempting to forget how he had ruined the best thing he had ever had.

Entering the store room, Clyde is leant against a shelf of crates, head bowed, mouth set in a hard line. Stensland shuffles around a table and pulling at a loose thread on his coat to divert some of his nervous energy.

“I’m sorry”, mumbled Clyde, his eyes look soft and oddly vulnerable, that it makes Stensland’s heart squeeze in sympathy.

“I told you, you don't need to apologise-”

“I’m not apologising for that,” Clyde insists, mouth crumpling slightly from the admission, “ I’m only sorry I didn't say anything before your accident.”

“Why didn't you?”

Clyde scowls at the ground, shoulders hunched, looking smaller than Stensland has ever seen him, its an image that doesn't sit well with him.

“It didn't seem like anything would come of it.”

“Play pretend,” though his voice is steady his hand isnt, as he reaches over to take Clyde’s in his. “Lets just pretend that the accident never happened, say what you would have done, had it not happened”.

Clyde blinks owlishly at his giant hand enclosed in Stensland’s ghostly pale one.

“Stensland...I-” Clyde bites his lips. It’s a challenge to articulate his feelings to explain the intensity of them, but Stensland strokes the back of his hand reassuringly, patiently waiting for his answer. “ When you first walked in here, all those months ago I could barely look at ya, you were so darn pretty it hurt my eyes. Everytime you enter a room your laugh just lights it up and it makes my heart beat double the pace. I thought I was going to have a heart attack the first time I heard it.” Clyde chuckles quietly as Stensland gives his hand a squeeze in encouragement to continue.

“Ya just so alive like a firecracker, reckless but sparkling that my whole body ached that I couldn’t touch you. But I didn't because I didn't want to lose you as a friend, I didnt want to make things awkward between us so I said nothing. Just having you around made me question why I ever thought i was happy on my own. Figured the pain of rejection would be worse than the ache of some teenage pining.  But then you had you accident and you touched me like I was the only one who mattered and it was -.” The rest of Clyde’s story is lost in an ugly sob, a sight that makes Stensland’s heart throb.

The only sound that meets Stensland ears, is his own ragged breathing as he lunges  for Clyde, desperate to be as close to him as possible. Seizing handfuls of Clyde’s plaid shirt he greedily pulls him forward, slotting his head under Clyde’s chin. He wants to get a needle and thread and sew the hands together so they may never part, joined together for eternity so Clyde never feels lonely again.

Voice thick with barely suppressed emotion he offers up a tentative muffled, “I love you too, I always did, I just didn't know it.”

Clyde is still stiff and frozen as if he has forgotten what it's like to be touched. Gradually his body becomes accustomed to Stensland’s persistent hold and his hands find themselves encircled around Stensland’s back; Squeezing him tighter as if to confirm Stensland’s existence.

At Stensland’s admission he lets out a shuddering sigh, as if a vital missing part of his heart has just been returned. He doesn't comment on the wet patch that has formed on the front of his shirt from Stensland’s sudden sobs, just makes reassuring shushing sounds, rocking slightly back and forth.

Stepping back Stensland makes a a pouty face in the hope of a kiss. Clyde happily obliges.  Clyde kisses him patiently and slowly just the way Stensland likes. His massive hands cupping the back of Stensland’s neck as if he was the most precious thing in the world.  The kiss taste like relief and hope entwined into one.

The future stretches before them, golden and warm. There will be upcoming arguments about who left the stove on and whose turn it is to prune the pumpkin patch; Silly inconsequential things that make up any relationship. But there will also be a house filled with love, hot pumpkin pie and late nights spent watching top ten most deadliest mammals, whilst eating burnt popcorn sharing a moth bitten patterned blanket, that smells vaguely of wet dog regardless of neither of them owning one. Clyde’s hand resting on his hip, nose buried in his hair sighing contentedly, as Stensland rates the mammals least likely to beat Clyde in a fight.

The realisation that they will have this to look forward to, fills Stensland’s skinny chest, flowering with a thrumming resonant heat.  There back on track where they need to be, standing in Duck Tape’s crowded stock room, with half the town pressing their ears against the door.

 

They are happy and for now that’s all that matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any plans to do any more clydeland but if you feel the need to vent some clydeland feels drop a line in my tumblr ask. I'd love to hear from you guys. https://dressesandcarresses.tumblr.com/


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